


could make a small boy dizzy

by clarakent (niewanyin)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Tim Drake, Parent/Child Incest, Protective Dick Grayson, Rape Recovery, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-01-13 05:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21239177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/pseuds/clarakent
Summary: When a device causes Dick and Tim to revert physically and mentally to the age they lost their virginity in the present and also manages to send Dick and Tim mentally back through time, horrifying truths are discovered.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [salazarastark (niewanyin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/pseuds/salazarastark) in the [iibb2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/iibb2019) collection. 

> I want to thank the amazing people on the C&C Discord and the DC ABO Discord for putting up with me figuring out this fic, and special shout-out to Myotosis for _really_ putting up with me. And a huge thanks to her, smellborp69, and tabletoptime for giving it a readthrough.
> 
> Title is from "My Papa's Waltz" by Theodore Roethke.

Bruce ignores the fighting of his son's behind him. It's very hard, because God help him, his sons are _ loud _. He loves them with all his heart and soul, but he's pretty sure that Jason is holding Tim's laptop above his head just so he can watch Tim jump around for it. He has no idea what Damian is doing, but his cackle is higher than Tim's complainants. Dick is trying, not very hard and not with a lot of enthusiasm, to tell Jason to stop.

Children are a blessing.

Bruce does everything in his power to remind himself of that.

Finally, he hears a scream and a yelp that sounds like it’s from Tim and Jason respectively, and then a crash followed by a triumphant laugh. The next thing he knows, Tim is sliding into the seat next to him, clutching his laptop tightly and smirking.

“Brat,” he hears Jason mutter. Tim just sticks out his tongue at him. 

He slides close to Bruce laying his head on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce leans into his hair to take a deep breath. Tim is a calming influence in his life, in all their lives. He and Jason were both omegas. Jason hadn’t presented until after the Pit, but Tim had presented long before he became Robin. For years, he had been the one omega in their family. Bruce presses a kiss to Tim’s hair, and Tim softly purrs beneath him as he nuzzles into Bruce’s neck. The comforting scent of raspberries and cinnamon and his _ son _ mix together.

He ignores the gagging sounds from Damian and Jason and Dick’s cooing.

“What's the matter?" Bruce whispers. Tim shrugs. "I just feel tired."

He can see the bags underneath his son's eyes, and his heart aches with sympathy and with the urge to build a nest for him, one big enough to fit Bruce as well so he can hold Tim until his son’s exhaustion melts away and Bruce can make him feel safe and warm and _ loved _.

He wraps an arm around Tim, and his son nuzzles even closer into his side. He hears the creak of another chair, and Dick’s hand appears on Tim’s forehead. “You okay, baby bird?” he asks. “You don’t feel warm.”

“Bad night,” Tim mutters. “Nightmares.”

Dick winces and Bruce frowns. Tim has always had nightmares, often screaming ones that leave him sobbing and shaking. Bruce doesn't know what they're about, Tim has always refused to talk about it.

"Worse than usual?" Dick asks, and Tim nods. 

"Don't know what's going on," he yawns into Bruce's chest. "Haven't been this bad in years."

Dick's hands are twitching, clearly dying to hold his little brother, and it's all he can do to respect the bond between Bruce and Tim to let Bruce hold him like this.

It won't last long.

With a sigh, Bruce gently moves Tim into Dick’s arms, who beams as Tim settles against his chest and under his chin. Bruce just quietly moves the laptop out of Tim’s arms. The desks surrounding him are all cluttered with objects, and Bruce stands up to set the laptop down on the small table they have right next to the stairs.

Jason and Damian are no longer trying to torture Tim, and have turned on each other. They’re sparring, Bruce thinks, it doesn’t look like any sort of martial arts that he’s seen before, but Jason is flailing his arms like a windmill and Damian is kicking out.

He’s pretty sure this style is called “brotherly roughhousing.” He smiles as he sets the laptop down, but it quickly slides from his face when Damian darts behind Jason, jumps on his back, and knocking Jason back, right onto the magical device that Bruce had picked up earlier that night.

The magical device that reverts everyone back to the age that they lost their virginity, because Bruce has to deal with a thousand and one creeps here in Gotham.

Dick.

He absolutely does not want to deal with a seventeen-year-old Dick around Tim.

But the cloud has already spread to Dick and Tim. All Bruce can do is back away from the luckily already dissipating cloud. He sees Jason and Damian in the epicenter, hacking coughs at the drugs, and then his eyes swing toward what he imagines is a Dick already flirting with a shocked Tim.

He doesn't want to witness this.

But then he hears a terrified cry, and the smoke clears away from Dick and Tim, and he wishes, more than anything, he was watching Dick disastrously flirting with Tim, because what he sees is his son, his seventeen-year-old son, holding a small boy in his arms.

Tim.

With. . . .

With, and Bruce has to force his mind to go into Batman-mode. No clothes, blood on his thighs, and the terrified stink of an omega in heat, one in heat far too early in his life.

Batman is forced out of his mind in grief as Dick, only dressed in sweatpants and a T-Shirt, instantly takes off his shirt to pull over the young child who is crying and shaking in pure fear. Dick's eyes swing around the Cave, and falling on a shocked and disgusted Jason and Damian. Dick’s lips pull back, and he actually growls.

"Who the fuck are _ you _?" he lets out. "How the hell did you get down here?" He looks down at the shaking child in his lap, and his anger spikes, filling the entire cave. "What did you do to him?"

Jason backs up, hands up quickly. "I didn't do anything to him."

Bruce wants to throw up, and he wants to close his eyes and shake off this hell that is his life. This can't be real. This isn't something that happened to Tim. He's . . . Bruce remembers Tim telling him that he had his first heat when he was nine years old.

Jesus Christ, this can't be what happened.

But he doesn't allow himself to do anything that he wants to do.

"Dick," he snaps at his son, and Dick’s arms tighten around his little brother and he snaps towards Bruce. "It's okay. We can trust them."

Dick frowns and his eyes spark with anger, but he's biting back his tongue while Bruce inches closer to his children.

"Jason didn't hurt him," Bruce whispers. "Take a deep breath, he's an omega."

He can smell it on Tim, all the way from here that Tim's . . . oh, God, his _ assailants _ were alphas. He looks at his second and fourth son. Jason's eyes are wide and he's trembling with anger. Damian's breathing is harsh and his fists are tight. They're both staring at the crying child in Dick's lap, the child that is Tim, who has been hurt in a way that Bruce never thought of and he wished to _ God _ that he never had to think about it before.

Bruce walks over to them, and Dick clutches the child closer to him. Bruce unbuckles his cape, and carefully holds it out to Tim. Tim just keeps crying, the terror coming off him in waves. He's sitting in Dick's lap, still as can be. He's terrified of Dick, Bruce realizes. Dick's alpha scent setting off waves of fear in the child, and being shirtless is not helping matters.

"Dick," he hisses. "You’re _ scaring _ him.”

Dick looks down at Tim, and bites his lip.

Bruce raises a hand and beckons Jason with that and a harsh whisper of his name. Thank God, Jason listens.

He walks close towards the child, Damian sliding off his back, and rolls up his sleeve so his wrist is free. He steps up next to Bruce and offers his wrist out to Tim to scent.

“Hey, baby,” Jason whispers. “My name’s Jason. I’m an omega, just like you.”

Tim shakes in Dick’s lap, but looks at Jason with wide-eyes. “You’re another omega?” he whispers.

Jason nods. Tim sniffs. “I’ve never met one. Mother and Father say they’re not good for anything but breeding.”

Bruce knows that Jack and Janet were omegaphobic, but he didn’t realize that the poor boy had _ never _ met another omega in his life by the age of nine. He feels a burst of hate towards them, one that he can tell that Jason feels as well.

Tim’s eyes flick towards Bruce. “Are you his breeder?” he whispers.

_ Christ _. “No,” Jason whispers. “No, baby. He’s not anything but my dad.” Dick’s head shoots up, but Bruce holds up his hand. Later.

The words don’t have the calming effect on Tim that Jason thought they would however. He starts to shake again, but he leans towards Jason and away from Dick, and Jason grabs him quickly, pulling him close to his chest as Tim begins to keen.

“No, no, no,” Tim whispers, and Bruce’s brow furrows for a moment before the answer hits him. He doesn’t want to see it. He can’t see it. If this is the truth, then Bruce has been oblivious to the worst kind of abuse that a child can be put through for _ years_.

But he knows it’s the truth.

“And I don’t touch him like your father does,” Bruce chokes out, and the others freeze. Tim buries his face in Jason’s shoulder and lets out a sob.

Jason instantly begins rubbing his back, holding Tim close to him. He places his hand behind Tim’s head and lets the boy bury his face in his neck, softly carding his fingers through his hair. 

“Damian,” Bruce barks. “Go to Alfred and tell him to get Leslie.” He hands Jason his cape, and makes sure that Jason is tucking in around Tim before he grips Dick’s arm and pulls him out of the chair, dragging him away from the scene.

“Bruce, what the _ fuck _ is going on?” Dick yells.

Bruce quickly shushes him.

“You’re deaged,” he forces out through gritted teeth. He thinks this is what it is at least, and until he can do more tests that’s what he’s calling it. “By some device that wants to return people to the age they lost their virginity in."

Dick freezes as his gaze turns to Tim, the child that Jason is holding tightly in his arms. Bruce sees the tears on Jason's cheeks as he lets Tim sob out all his pain. "Christ, B," he whispers, and then his brow furrows. "But who _ are _ they?"

Bruce sighs. "Your little brothers."

Dick reels back at that statement, blinking as he takes in the scene of Jason and Tim. “Wha-? _ When _?”

“Long story,” Bruce says grimly. 

Dick raises a hand towards them. “Did you _ know _? Did you save him?”

Bruce blinks back the tears that are trying to form in his eyes. He wants, more than anything, to tell Dick that he knew and he saved Tim, but he can’t because he didn’t even know until this exact moment.

He takes a deep breath, and forces out, “I would give anything to have known.”

“How the fuck did you miss it?” Dick asks, and Bruce doesn’t know how to answer that. Tim’s nightmares. The way he always flinched from Bruce, Dick, Babs, and Alfred’s touch for that first year.

Bruce remembers the first heat Tim went through after he had become Robin. He had come into Bruce’s room, slipping under the covers with only a thin T-Shirt and boxers. He had been shivering, and Bruce remembered his jerky sobs.

He had thought that Tim was cold and lonely and scared. All he had done was to reach for the boy half-asleep and pulled him close, tucking him underneath his chin. He had woken up with Tim still there, sound asleep with tear marks on his cheeks.

Bruce wants to throw up when he realizes the real reason why Tim had crawled into his bed that night.

How the fuck could he have been so blind?

He shakes his head and forces the memories out of his mind. He can't change the past. He just has to figure out how the hell he can fix the present.

***

Tim chokes back a sob as he wakes up, his body shaking and in pain. So much pain. He hasn't felt pain like this in years, not since his father died. Tears are building in his eyes, which he refuses to open, refuses to participate in this nightmare.

He wants his family. He wants to bury his face in Bruce's neck and just _ breathe_. He wants to feel Dick curled around his back. He wants to curl up on top of Jason, the older omega hesitantly purring, terrified that he's doing it wrong, and not realizing that Tim loves him as the omega he is, not the omega he "should" be. He even wants Damian. Damian's steady presence as he leans into Tim on the couch when he thinks Tim won't notice.

He wants to be anywhere but here.

He hears their voices above him and he shakes because he always hears their voices in his nightmares.

Telling him how much they hate him for being an omega, but love how well he spreads his legs. Telling him how disappointed they are, but how proud they are. Telling him that no Drake should be as weak as he is, but telling him that this is his place.

The heat is raging through his body, or at least the memory of it. But this nightmare feels so much more real than it usually does.

He's curled up in a small ball, clutching a pillow tightly. He's naked and he wants to get dressed immediately. A sharp command from his mother saying that she knows he's a little bitch, but he could try not to act like it.

He heard those words often, and his eyes fly open immediately as he jumps at them. His gaze darts around the room, until it lands on his mother and father. They're dressed. Already put together.

No one would ever think that this couple would rape their nine year old son, and a burst of hate flares through Tim because how _ dare _ they? How dare they ruin his life? He was nine years old and they hurt him in the vilest of ways just because they couldn't accept that he was an omega, because genetics refused to go along with what they assumed they were going to get from life. He's going to carry the weight of what they did to him for his entire life. He's going to be ninety-nine years old and _ still _ wake up from nightmares because of them and no one should have that right. They should mean nothing to him and somehow, fucking _ somehow _, they come to mean something.

And then he thinks about Bruce. And Bruce tries and fails and he makes mistakes, but Tim feels _ loved_. He doesn't feel unwanted. And he can come to Bruce and feel _ safe _. And it's with this hatred that courses through his body that he snarls out, "I hate you."

They are figures in his dream, and he doesn't really care. "I hate you, I hate you, **I fucking hate you**." He's screaming, tears rolling down his red cheeks like iron brands, hurting, but everything hurts in his body and this is the kind of hurt you feel when you clean out the wound or suck out the poison, because he needs to scream and rage.

He demands it, because life gave him the absolute shittiest deal imaginable and he's going to take something back from it.

The dreams of his parents draw back, and then his father snarls. "Shut your fat little mouth _ now_."

He grips Tim’s shoulders and pulls him up, shakes him as he shouts, spit flying out of his mouth. “You need to fucking learn your place.”

Tim gasps and chokes as the vision of his father comes closer, more lifelike than any dream has ever been before.

Dream.

This is a dream, but it doesn’t feel like one. It feels far too real, and Tim’s mind tries to comprehend, stretching his mind back to the last thing he remembers.

Jason and Damian playing around, knocking into the artifact that . . . that turns people to the age they lost their virginity. They thought it was an _ age regression _ spell, not a time travel one. Tim looks down at his body, and then flinches in his own skin, eyes darting back up and closing them quickly. Purely mental time travel.

He hunches into himself because this _ isn’t _ a dream, and that just means that he really pissed off his parents by his outburst. He doesn’t regret it, but he doesn’t know how exactly he can defend himself here.

He’s dragged off the bed, and he screams. His hip was dislocated. He lied to Bruce when Bruce was looking at his medical records, told him it happened during a skateboarding incident. Black spots dance in front of his eyes, and it's all he can do not to pass out. His fath- _ Jack _ keeps his grip on him and throws him into his closet, Tim trying to curl up into a little ball and go limp to keep it from hurting more, but it's so _ hard_. The doors slam, and the doors rattled as something is put in front of the closet.

"When you can show some respect," his mother says coldly, "you can come out."

Tim chokes back his sobs as he waits for them to leave his room, and then scrambles for his hidden camera bag. He had bought a burner phone to use when he was following Batman. He can . . . he can call Dick. Dick might have come back around this time, or at least Tim hopes so. He can do something about this.

Dick's phone number. He doesn't know if it's the same one that Dick has now, though Dick has had the same one since Tim had become Robin. He can only hope that it's going to work. 609-555-6279. 609-555-6279. He has to hope that this is going to work.

The phone rings three times, before _ finally _ Dick picks up. "Hello?" he says, his voice higher and softer than Tim is used. "Who is this?"

Tim takes a deep, shuddering breath and then sobs into the phone, "Dick?"

A beat. Then another. Then a pond-still, "Tim?"

"Hmm-mmm," Tim whimpers into the phone.

"Are you-?"

Tim nods, and then remembers that Dick can't see him. "I need your help," he whispers.

"Where are you?" Dick says, a growl on the edge of his voice.

He’s not home. He’s at the Drake house, but he’s not home. “Closet,” he whispers. “In my room. Dick. . . .” His voice catches on a sob. “Dick, I don’t want to be here.”

“I know, baby bird,” is whispered in his ear. “I’m coming to get you. Ten minutes, buddy. I’m running as fast as I can.”

He can hear it, the shoes pounding on the ground, Dick’s breathing fast and hard in his ear.

He whimpers and tries to curl up into himself even more, but he can’t quite manage it. He still hurts so much.

Dick stays on the phone with him, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Tim holds the phone as close to his ear as he possibly can, and it seems like both forever and no time at all before Dick is barging into his room and throwing open the closet doors.

He looks young. Tim doesn't remember Dick ever looking young like this. But he's still Tim's hero as Dick's face crumpled as he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around Tim's even smaller body, pulling him close as he lets Tim cry into his shoulder.

"Let it out, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss onto Tim's sweat-matted hair. "I gotcha ya."

Tim knows that. Stiff fingers cling onto Dick's shirt, and every part of his body is radiating pain and it feels so good to sob right now, to cry out all his pain and trust that his big brother's arms will hold him tight.

*

Dick doesn't know how long it takes for Tim to cry out all the pain, pain that’s been years in the making. His little brother, _ nine years old_, isn’t a virgin, and Dick can smell, beneath all the terror and distress, that Tim is in the early stages of a first heat. Nine is very young, but it isn’t totally unheard of for omegas to present at that age.

And unfortunately, it isn’t unheard of for them to be sexually assaulted.

“Baby bird,” he whispers, needing to repeat to himself and to Tim that Tim is a _ child_, someone who was in absolutely no way prepared for this. “Who did this?” He thinks- He thinks he knows.

But he still has to _ hear _ it.

Tim trembles in Dick’s hold. “My pa-my pa-my par-” His voice chokes off a sob as he sinks again into tears.

Dick knows what he’s trying to say and grips him tighter. He had easily managed to break into the Drake Manor and get to Tim’s room without the Drake’s noticing, but he knows that they’re still inside. He wants to find them and tear their fucking throats out, but he stops himself. He just gathers Tim up close to him, and stands up, heart breaking at Tim’s whimper. He can’t imagine the amount of pain that his little brother is in. Tim presses his face into Dick’s neck, and Dick can feel the warm wetness of Tim’s tears on his skin.

“I’m scared,” Tim mumbles into his skin, and Dick just holds him tighter.

“I gotcha,” Dick whispers. “I will _ never _ let anything happen to you.”

Tim takes a shaky breath, tears pouring silently down his face, and then nods. “I want to go _ home _.”

Dick rubs his hand on Tim’s back heart sinking as he tries to think of how best to deliver this news. “Baby, we have to get you to the hospital.”

Tim starts to shake. “Les-”

“Baby, if we want you to get away from your parents, then we need documentation. We need to make sure that doctors and nurses and police officers know what they did to you.”

“Bruce,” Tim chokes out. "He's gonna-" Tim dissolves into sobs again, and Dick swallows down the knot in his throat as he carefully begins to leave Tim's room. He doesn't want the Drake's to hear Tim, but he doesn't want Tim to stifle his pain and terror. He knows that's why the poor kid never told him or Bruce the first time around, because the Drake's had forced that lesson through Tim's skull.

"Bruce," Dick says, "is going to take you in as soon as I tell him about this. He's _ never _ going to let you go back to the Drake's, and he's not going to think you’re weak for going to a hospital." Especially since Bruce doesn't know Tim. Tim is just a hurt child to Bruce right now, not his Robin.

At least, not yet.

Tim is still sobbing, but he's trying to do it silently. Dick is able to get out of the house undetected by the Drake's, and with a deep sigh of relief, he leaves that stupid fucking house.

As soon as his feet are on dirt, he hefts Tim up a little higher and breaks out into a run. He has a car back at the Manor, or Bruce does really. Dick didn't have his own car at this point of time, but he had a car that was basically his. Bruce is at WE today, and Alfred is running errands. He can take Tim to the hospital in the car, and then he can call the two of them.

He's twenty-seven years old, for all that his body is one of a seventeen year old, but he still feels like he needs his father and grandfather. But he doesn't have them. He has his trembling little brother in his arms, scared out of his mind.

Dick hadn't expected this call today. He _ never _ would have expected this call. He was on his third day in the past, making as quick a retreat as he could from Titans Tower and Kori without making it seem obvious what he was doing. He knew that the best place to figure it out would be Gotham, and as wet gasps leave Tim, he's glad that he did. The thought of Tim calling him when he couldn't come get him right away?

Horrifying.

The car comes up before Dick can blink, and he runs to the passenger side, bundling Tim up in his jacket and the emergency blankets before he buckles him in. He kisses the top of Tim's hair as Tim sniffles and attempts to put on a brave face. He doesn't really succeed, and Dick doesn't blame him. No kid should have to just suck up something like this. It doesn't matter if Tim is really nineteen years old, he's still a traumatized kid.

Dick rushes to the driver's side and scrambles inside, not even bothering to buckle his seat belt as he puts the car into drive and proceeds to break multiple speed-limits to get Tim to the hospital. He's so focused on this aspect, that he doesn't even notice Tim attempting to say something at first. But eventually, he recognizes Tim's sobs becoming jerky words. "Wha-what's the story?"

Dick blinks. What fucking story? Tim was raped by his parents, and needs medical care. He doesn't say it so bluntly though. "What do you mean, baby bird?" is what he whispers.

"Wh-why did I call you?" Tim gets out, and the moment clicks for Dick what exactly Tim is trying to say, what exactly he's attempting to put together. It's a good idea, but one that Tim really shouldn't be worried about now. But if not now, when?

Dick takes a deep breath, licks his lips, and then begins to speak. "We're neighbors. A few days ago, I saw you looking nervous and I tried to talk to you. You didn't really want to engage in conversation, but I managed to give you my number. Today, you gave me a call when your heat started and your parents," he chances a glance at Tim, and sees Tim curled up into a small ball, preemptively waiting for the verbal punch that horribly honest word (_raped_) will give him. He bites his tongue, and forces another, lesser word, "hurt you."

Tim nods. "It's-it's realistic enough. I can use that."

Where the fuck were they ten years ago? He and Bruce were too wrapped in their own drama to notice the horrific crimes happening right next door. But wondering where they were then isn't going to help his little brother now, and Dick takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile. It feels wrong on his face, but he keeps it there all the same. "Just focus on me, Tim. That's all you have to do."

The Drake's were stupid enough to leave the evidence on Tim's legs, even though the flashes of red and white on his legs are enough to make Dick gag, trying not to make it obvious so Tim doesn't see and doesn't think it's because of _ him_. This is going to be an open and shut case, and Dick just has to make sure that when it's shut, Tim is safe with him.

The rest of the drive is a blur, marked Tim's whimpers and soothing noises that come out of Dick's mouth without him even realizing it. Eventually, the hospital is in blessed sight, and Dick parks haphazardly, jumping out and rushing around to grab Tim. Tim goes back to clinging to Dick's clothes, burying his face in Dick's shoulders.

Dick runs inside the ER, looking around for the front desk. It had moved in ten years, and it takes a minute to place it, but as soon as he does, he strides over. A bored nurse looks up eyes widening when she sees the rage in his eyes and the rut curling around his scent. "Doctor," he snarls out now. "I need a fucking doctor _ now_."

She nods, eyes flitting towards Tim. "Wha-?"

"Beta or omega," Dick demands. "No fucking alpha except me, got it?"

The nurse nods, and with a shaky voice, pages for a doctor, beta or omega only. Dick stands there, small child in his arms, and kisses the top of his head. "Baby bird, you okay?" he whispers.

Tim nods. "Are you calling Dad soon?" he asks exhaustion filling his voice, and Dick swallows past the knot in his throat. He doubts Tim even realized the slip of the tongue.

"Yeah, I'm about to call him," he forces out. "And he's going to come down here and see you and never let you go. You'll have your dad again soon, Timmy."

Tim sighs and smiles, as he moves his head slightly on Dick's shoulder. "Miss him already. Don't want him to go away again."

Dick's eyes are watering up, and a doctor is moving towards them, and Dick blinks them away, striding over to the female beta who is looking at his baby brother in deep concern. "I'm not going away," he says, voice cracking. "Need to stay with him."

She takes a long look into Dick's eyes, and then nods. "What are your names?" she asks.

"Tim," Dick replies, nodding towards the child in his arms. "I'm Dick."

She nods again, and then looks at Tim. "Tim, do you want Dick to stay with you?"

Part of Dick wants to snarl and rage at her, but the much bigger other part of him is pleased at how she's treating Tim. His little brother raises his face from Dick's shoulder and nods. "Please don't make him go," Tim begs, voice breaking on the last word, and he sees the small way her face crumples as well.

"Do you have anyone we can call?" she asks them, and Dick nods. "B." He rattles off the number, and then continues on with, "Tell him that Dick needs him at the hospital now, that I found a kid who's hurting and needs a home." The nurse makes a quick note of it, and moves to call him immediately.

He takes a deep breath. "And call the police as well." The tears start to fall from him, but he can't stop them. "We don't just need a rape kit. We need to open a child abuse case."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their wonderful comments, and tabletoptime and Myosotis for their great beta work.

Jason hates how Tim shakes his arms, his terror all-encompassing as his fingers curl tightly into Jason's shirt, tears staining Jason's neck, and he sees green at the edge of his vision, longing to reach through space and time to Jack and Janet Drake and utterly destroy them for what they've done to his little brother.

They raped their nine year old son, he just prays that they're rotting in hell, if God has a shred of mercy in his heavenly body, their immortal souls are being eternally punished for their crimes like they never were on Earth.

They're waiting for Leslie to arrive so she can examine Tim, make sure that he's okay. Though how he can be okay after this, Jason doesn't know. His hip is dislocated if his screams of pain are any indication, and Bruce managed to get it out of Tim that both Jack and Janet had raped their child.

God, Jason hates them more than he thought it was possible to hate anyone on Earth, more than he even hates the Joker.

Tim only seems to feel safe in his arms, finding him far safer than the alpha's of Dick or Bruce or the unpresented Damian.

Bruce gave him the rundown that Tim was never around other omegas until he became Robin at thirteen, a full four years after his heats had begun. Jack and Janet hadn't cared, and the depths of that hatred and disinterest is so much more clear now. And it's very likely that they never wanted their child to have contact with other omegas because being around them would make Tim realize that what they were doing was horribly and despicably wrong.

Tim shivers in the only clothes he's wearing, Dick's T-shirt and Batman's cape wrapped around him, and Jason holds him as tightly as he dares, afraid that no matter what he does, he's going to hurt Tim. But he wants him to be warm.

And most importantly, he wants him to be safe.

"How long until the doctor gets here?" he hears Damian snap to Alfred. Jason would call him a brat, except that he clearly isn't. His voice is cracking as he demands to know when Leslie is going to get here so Tim will stop being in so much pain. Tears in his eyes as he shakes with fury and frustration and Jason knows exactly how he feels because there's no way in hell that such a thing should happen to a child.

Tim is nine now, though he seems far younger thanks to his size and the sheer trauma going through his mind, but he's only two years younger than Damian, and Damian being eleven has never been more clear than this moment. If Jason didn't have his hands full with Tim, he would be trying to wrap Damian into a hug right now. A job that would normally be for Dick, but Dick's seventeen right now, and he has no fucking clue who any of them are, certainly not Damian.

Bruce is talking to Dick, and it's strange. Ever since Jason was taken in by Bruce, Dick has always been so big and strong, a literal titan in his life. Seeing him so young is. . . . It's _ wrong _. Dick looks nothing like the man he knows he is. There are shades of him, but Jason could really do with a big brother and he doesn't have one right now.

Tim shivers again, and Jason tries to hold him a little tighter, but it just draws a muffled cry of pain from his little brother and there's nothing that Jason can do to make it better. It makes him want to cry and he knows that he can't cry because if he starts crying, he's never going to stop. He just kisses the top of Tim's sweaty hair, praying that Leslie will be here soon so she can take care of Tim and make him feel better.

Jason refuses to think about the fact that Tim has been carrying this secret with him for years, that the teenager that stood in front of him just hours ago had been so cruelly treated throughout his life and Jason had never noticed. He could have said if he had just looked a little deeper, refused to let his anger consume him. He could have found out the truth and taken care of the problem like he swore to do.

Old memories flicker in his mind, but he pushes them aside. Nothing about right now is about Jason. It’s all about Tim.

Damian sits down next to him, eyes drawn to Tim, who just hunches in further and tries to curl into Jason. "Hey," Jason whispers. "Don't worry about Damian, he's not going to hurt you."

Not anymore, because Jason would fucking end him if he tried. He would destroy anyone who would dare touch a hair on Tim's head.

Damian awkwardly nods. "Don't fear me, Dra-Timothy. I won't harm you, I just want to inquire how you're feeling."

There's nothing but soft sobs for a moment before Jason hears a soft, "I'm okay."

It would almost be funny if it weren't clear that Tim, in this moment, was just trying to make them feel better, and Jason has never seen Damian look so devastated, tears filling his eyes as Tim struggles to give him a small smile.

"Timothy, you don't need to lie to me," Damian continues, his voice halting and awkward. "You are in extreme pain and grief, I won't ask you to lie just to make me feel better."

Tim begins to shake, not shiver. "No, I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me."

Damian's eyes flash. "You have a dislocated hip from your parents raping you." Tim flinches and curls into himself, further into Jason, at the words that Jason knows are too hard for him to hear right now. Jason knows all too well, he grew up among kids who couldn't admit what has happened to them was wrong, because that meant facing all the pain of their lives. "You're not okay, and you don't need to pretend."

"Not to you," Bruce says, suddenly in front of them even though Jason didn't see him move, and Tim just shakes harder in Jason's grasp. "But he needs to pretend to himself."

Damian frowns, still so confused, but unsure what to say. Bruce sighs. "Go help Alfred set up the medical station."

He huffs as he stands up, but obeys Bruce all the same. Bruce takes his place, glancing at a scared Tim. Jason hears Dick walk up to him, tilting his head as he takes in Tim. Bruce shoved him into a large sweatshirt, and both of their scents have calmed down into something more calm and clean, something that Jason finds comforting.

It's clear that Tim does not, because he keeps shaking in Jason's arms, but Jason thinks it's just fear of alphas, not fear of Bruce and Dick. He admires his little brother for finding the courage within himself to find a way to handle their scent and their touch all these years.

He hates that Tim never felt like he could come and talk to anyone about it.

"Tim," Bruce whispers. "Do you know who I am?"

"Bruce Wayne," the child whispers. "You know my parents."

Bruce nods, and his eyes are suspiciously wet, and despite everything that's ever happened, Jason wants to tell Bruce that this wasn't his fault. It never could be. Most people don't assume that the people they meet at galas and functions are incestuous omegaphobic rapists, intent on hurting their one and only child because of a part of his biology that he had no control over. And by the time Tim became Robin, he had to have gotten good at hiding it, it was the only way.

"Do you know who _ else _ I am?" Bruce asks next, and there's a beat before Tim nods. "You're Batman." The words are low and hoarse and choked out, but Jason feels the thread of hope coursing through them.

"That's right," Bruce says, smiling softly at Tim. Next to Jason, Dick jumps in surprise, obviously not realizing that the tiny and abused nine-year-old figured out something that had puzzled the world for _ years_. But that was just Tim Drake. "I'm Batman."

"Did you rescue me?" Tim asks, and the hope in his voice is stronger, more coherent. Jason's heart breaks when he thinks about how much Tim must have wanted rescue, rescue that no one ever gave.

Bruce's face cracks, just a smidge, and then he continues with a broken voice. "I wished I could have, Tim. But I . . . but that's not what happened here." He inches closer to Jason and Tim, and Tim doesn't make one sound or movement of fear or discomfort, so all they take it as a win. "What happened was that you're seventeen right now. You were accidentally exposed to a chemical that reverted your mind and body back to the age and . . . state you lost your virginity. And Tim, I adopted you. Just like I did Dick. Jason is your big brother. Damian's your little brother. You're _ my _ son. And I never hurt you like this." Bruce spits the last word out in disgust, and all Tim does is watch Bruce with wide-eyes as he shakes in Jason's arms.

"You don't?" Bruce shakes his head.

"I would _ never_."

***

Tim takes a deep breath as he lies on the cold metal table. He wants to break down and cry some more, but he knows that he can't. He has to be strong and brave because he's seventeen years old, not nine. Even though being here right now is taking him back to that age, and being afraid of everything. Every touch, every alpha, every shadow in his room. The first time he was nine, he was cooped up in a bed, his hip taken care of by a doctor his parents found who never asked any questions, no matter how many times he was called to their house for injuries that could have only happened one way. He lived in abject fear of his parents and their eyes, them coming into his room sent him into panic attacks that took him years to overcome.

He was a _ child _ and he had been so gruesomely hurt.

But he has Dick now, and Dick's hand in his own, squeezing it and making him feel better, feel more settled.

Even as the beta doctor sits in between his legs and starts. . . .

He just focuses on Dick's hand and steady pulse and the way he talks about what life's going to be like as soon as Bruce takes him in.

He has no doubts about it. Bruce will take him in without a moment's hesitation, and he'll feel happy and secure, just like he did before.

He wants Bruce to get here as soon as he can. He wants his dad. He's blinking his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling, trying to ignore what's happening to him, but it's growing more and more impossible. He finally can't stop the sob from escaping him, biting his lips as he shakes on the table, and he tries to close his legs, but he can't. He can't and he never can again, because he's always just a whore that has to be used.

"When's he getting here?" he chokes out, and Dick stops his story to sigh. "I don't know, baby bird. And it-"

Dick stops for the benefit of the doctor, but Tim knows what he means. He's not going to know Tim like Bruce did. Will. It doesn't really matter. He just wants his dad now, in whatever way he can have him.

He wants someone, anyone, to hold him, but that's not happening as long as the doctor works.

Tim gives up and decides to give into his sobbing.

It tears out of him, loud and large. He feels so alone despite Dick holding his hand and the doctor between his legs. He hurts so much despite the painkillers. He feels so dirty. It feels like nothing is right in this world and he hates it so much, his entire world turning on his side. He wants to be curled up in Dick's lap, clean and warm and feeling safe while Dick pets his hair and tells him that he's proud of him. He's done nothing to deserve it, but he still wants Dick to be proud of him.

He feels Dick's hand on his face, but it's not the same. It's not a firm hold, a smile in his hair, the whispered promised that Dick will make sure that nothing will ever hurt him.

He doesn't even realize that the doctor finishes until she's whispering about putting him under so they can reset his hip and he . . . he can't let that happen, not until he sees Bruce again. He has to make sure that Bruce is here and will make sure that no one hurts him. He didn't trust Bruce before and that was so, so stupid of him, but he can fix his mistakes now, he can prove that he's a good son and not someone weak.

He opens his eyes to beg, but there's a needle in his arm, knocking him out before he gets a chance to argue, his sobs carrying until the world goes dark.

*

He wakes up to his entire body throbbing in pain, and still feeling just as disgusting as before. His mind is still a whir of emotions, and he doesn't understand. He got so good at putting this aside when his parents were still alive. They would fuck him in the morning and he would be Robin at night, but it's been a few years and he can't put these feelings away again. He blinks up at the dark ceiling, and then turns his head to the side. Dick is sitting on the couch, staring at anger at something on his phone. Bruce is next to him, staring at a laptop.

At the sight of them together, Tim can't stop the sob from escaping him. And then the next sob. And then the next.

Until it's coming out in a flood of emotions, and he can smell both Bruce and Dick arriving at his side, nervously watching him. He reaches out for Bruce, wanting to be held by his dad, and Bruce doesn't disappoint him. He's bundled up and held close, the top of his head kissed and his face placed near a neck and Tim breathes in that safe smell of blackberries and sunlight, the smell of his _ father. _Not the whiskey smell of his father or the gin of his mother, not the sour tinge that always seemed to be underneath their skin.

No, this is a good scent, a safe scent.

This is his dad.

He knows that Bruce doesn't know him yet, that he doesn't recognize Tim as his son yet, but Tim still knows that he's being held by his father and it's all he needs. "Thank you," he whispers, and he's not really sure what he's thanking Bruce for. To be seen, to be loved, to be cared for? All emotions that were foreign to him before he came into Bruce's life? He doesn't know.

He just knows that he wants to stay in Bruce's arms forever, or at least until he stops crying.

And he doesn't know how long he cries, only that it feels like forever before his chest stops jerking and his throat is done being sanded raw and he's able to open his eyes and actually see the soft shirt that his face has been pressed into, something cashmere and black and Tim is so glad to be safe.

He thinks that he should pull back, but he doesn't think that he can. Not when Bruce is still so willing to hold him and rock him.

With his sobs having trailed off, Dick whispers carefully, "Tim?" It's a small word, but it's all that Tim needs to be pulled back to himself, and he forces himself to pull back.

He looks younger. He's only twenty-nine right now though, and that's such a strange concept. He's looking down at Tim in obvious concern, and it makes Tim blush and look down, embarrassment hitting him at over how completely he broke down in Bruce's arms, especially when he's not even his son yet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne," he whispers. "I didn't mean to ruin your shirt."

And it is ruined, Tim's tears and snots have made sure of that.

Bruce frowns and glances down. "That doesn't matter to me at all, Tim," he says. He frowns. "I can call you Tim, right?"

Tim blinks and then nods out of sheer confusion, because why would Bruce need to ask his permission before doing anything. Dick places a hand on his shoulder, and rubs his back. "The GCPD have already arrested your parents," he tells him, and Tim nods. The words should elate him, but he can't register them. For his entire life, his parents have been untouchable monsters that won't hesitate to hurt him or make him feel lesser. He's always been the weak omega to their strong alphas. It doesn't seem to real that they could have been brought down.

He blinks up at Dick. "How?"

Dick's face twists in emotions that Tim can't name, and then he sighs. "Tim, there was a lot of evidence from the exam, it's more than enough to put them away for life. Without having to take this to court."

"Where no matter what happens," Bruce growls. "You won't have to testify."

More tears try to bring themselves to Tim's eyes, but he's already cried himself out so much before that it's impossible for more to come right now. "I won't have to go back?" he whispers. He knows the answer, he knows what's going to happen, but he has to actually hear the words from Bruce and Dick.

Bruce places a strong hand on his shoulder. "You will never have to look at them again," he whispers. "And you _ will _ be coming to live with us."

Tim leans back into Dick's strong chest, relief filling him, and he doesn't stop his eyes from closing, knowing that he's going to be waking up content.

***

Bruce watches the small child in Jason's arms fall asleep, his heart breaking. Jason's scent is going haywire right now, apples and cherries filling the air, clearly tinged with distress. Tears are marking both of their cheeks, and Bruce wants to wrap both of them up in his arms, he's just not sure if Jason or Tim will allow it. Not with Tim so freshly traumatized.

"Father," Damian whispers as he comes back to them, the medical area all set up for Leslie. "How is Timothy doing?"

"Scared," Bruce whispers to him.

Jason tightens his arms around Tim, and starts humming an old lullaby as he rocks him, the scent getting stronger. "He's in so much pain," he chokes out, his voice thick with tears. "I can't imagine how someone could do this to a child. _ Their _ child."

Bruce has no idea either. He looks at his sons, and the idea of hurting any of them fills his heart with pure anger and despair, and what hurts the most is knowing that someone did touch Tim like that, and Bruce couldn't stop it. And Tim didn't feel safe enough to tell him, when Bruce would have done anything to save him from the absolute monsters that were hurting him.

He glances up at Jason, and then frowns. "You haven't changed."

Jason tenses, looking down at the sleeping child in his arms. "I . . . I never wanted to because. . . ." He closes his mouth, presses it into a thin line. Bruce's heart fills with terror yet again. "Did something. . . ?"

His son refuses to look at Bruce as he forces out, "Nothing happened. Obviously. But I never trusted anyone to get that closer." He holds Tim even tighter in his arms. "I didn't present until after I died, and then it got even worse, because I saw what people did to omegas. They were treated like shit. Plus Ra's."

"Ra's?" Bruce growls, already fearing the answer, and Jason hunches into himself. "Look, the asshole wanted Tim as his wife more, but he wanted me first. Talia pushing me in wasn't just to ruin your life and fulfill a great plan, it was also to get me away from someone who wanted to fuck me until I was popping out his kids. But I got too big and too angry after she gave me my mind back, and I wasn't the delicate little toy he wanted." He brushes a hand through Tim's hair. "And knowing this just makes the whole thing even more fucked."

Jason sighs. "But I just had a hard time imagining anyone touching me after I knew what Ra's was planning. I didn't . . . I didn't want to give anyone else that control over me."

"Jason, it's not-"

"Bruce, I'm not the kid who's sexual trauma you need to discuss right now, okay?" he snaps at Bruce, and while Bruce wants to get back to what Jason had said to him, wants to get back to his hunched shoulders and downcast eyes and tight lips, and he knows that there's more to this story, that Jason hasn't lied, but he hasn't told him the full truth. But Jason is right. Bruce only has so much that he can focus on right now, and Tim is the priority right now.

But one day soon enough, Bruce will sit Jason down, just the two of them, and he will listen to his son speak.

He makes himself promise.

Dick walks over to them at that moment, eyes flickering to Jason with worry. It makes Bruce so proud. He barely even knows these little brothers, but he's already so protective of them. "Alfred told me that Leslie'll be here in five minutes, Helena just told him. And who's Helena?"

Bruce adds another thing to the list, but knows that he won't tell Dick why out of everyone he told Helena to come here. He won't tell her why out of everyone she's the one he trusts the most to see the young boy like this.

"Later, Dick," he sighs out with exhaustion. "This . . . this will all be later."

Dick huffs with frustration, but sits down, the sweatshirt that Bruce had found bigger on him that it is on his older self.

He had thought that Dick was so big at seventeen, but he really was so young.

"Sooooo," Dick says, stretching out the word. "You guys want to tell me a little about yourself?"

Jason and Damian look at Dick, confusion in their eyes. He shrugs. "What? You guys are my little brothers, I want to know all I can about you." He nods his head towards Tim. "When I get back, it's not just his life I can change."

Bruce adores his child, and how good and caring he is.

Jason frowns. "That's changing the future."

Dick makes a purposely fake shocked face. "No shit, Sherlock. That's the plan here."

Jason, making sure that he's not disturbing the sleeping boy in his arms, flips him off.

Bruce is so happy to see that Dick's already getting along with Jason.

"Todd was homeless," Damian cuts in. "Living on the street. I suggest that after you make sure Timothy is safe, you find and take care of him." He straightens up. "Right now, I'm in the middle of training, so to ensure that I'm at my performance peak, you can leave with my grandfather. It's Todd that'll need your love and care."

Dick stares at Damian, and then: "Oh my God, you're adorable. Can I pinch your cheeks?"

Damian instantly starts looking for his katana, but Bruce places a hand on his shoulder. "I will give you the necessary information later, Dick."

A world where Tim wasn't hiding this pain. Where Jason doesn't die. Where Damian isn't abused into a child soldier.

All of that is within his grasp, or an alternate universe's Bruce grasp. He hopes that Bruce realizes how incredibly, monumentally lucky he is.

He's going to have happier children.

Bruce is already planning on how to color-coordinate the folder.

Dick leans back in his seat, and turns to look up at the ceiling. "I need to know, B." All jokes are gone from his voice, it's complete and total seriousness. "I can't let these kids get hurt."

Bruce would never ask him.

***

Twenty-four hours ago, Bruce had no idea who Tim Drake was other than the vague knowledge that he was the son of Jack and Janet Drake.

In this moment, he has a trembling child in his arms, and the knowledge that two monsters have existed underneath his nose for years, and the only way he noticed was when they decided to rape their freshly-presented omega child.

And Bruce wonders about the other omega children that must have raped together, to be so confident and purposeful to do it to their son.

There's a part of Bruce that wants to rip out their throats with his bare teeth, but he forces that part of himself down, focusing on making sure that the police will arrest them, that the world-class lawyers that he's hired will expose their crimes to the world, that Clark and Lois will be the dogs with a bone that he knows they are and find every single terrible thing the Drake's have done.

He can and will destroy their world.

Tim is falling asleep on his lap, Dick handing him back to Bruce to be questioned by the police with Alfred by his side. Bruce knows that his son is lying, but he's not questioning how right now. Not when he has Tim in his arms. 

The crying jag from earlier had exhausted the small boy. A boy. A child. That's exactly who and what he is. He's nine years old, and a simple biological process is not nearly enough to make him an adult.

Seriously. Teeth, throat. Him, the Drake's.

Bruce leans back in the hospital bed, making sure that Tim is comfortable in his lap. He tucks the blanket around Tim, hoping between that and Bruce's body heat, Tim will stay warm and content.

He bites his lip, looks around the room, and takes a deep breath.

Dear Lord, he has no idea what he's doing.

Therapy. He needs to get Tim into therapy, that's a given. He needs to make sure that the Manor can accommodate Tim while he's healing from the injuries of his hips. Dislocated hips will take a few months to heal, so Bruce will need to be really careful with Tim.

Good Lord, how much pain did Tim have to go through?

Tim shuffles even closer to him in his sleep, and Bruce is so glad that he was able to gain the trust of the young boy so easily. Tim seems older than his years, his eyes full of pain and hardship and he looked at Bruce with so much _ relief. _It's like he couldn't believe that someone loved him so much to take care of him, and Bruce resolves to make sure that Tim knows he has Bruce. That he has Dick and Alfred as well. As soon as Kate and Babs and Bette hear this news, he'll have them as well. And hopefully, one day in the very distant future, his biological parents will be nothing more than an awful and distant memory, one that only rises to the surface once or twice a year.

"Bruce," Tim mumbles, and Bruce tenses for a moment before he realizes that Tim is simply dreaming, and that he's not actually speaking to him in the real world. He says nothing more, and Bruce just has to hope that what's happening in the dream is something good. He still whispers, "I'm here, Timmy. Don't ever worry. I'll always be here."

He knows that he isn't imagining Tim's smile.

***

Dick scowls as he stares at the table in front of him. Alfred is watching him with careful eyes, and Dick curses the fact that he's stuck as a seventeen year old and can't do actual adult things. He can't be in a simple police interview alone, but rather with Alfred. Which means he has to carefully balance two lies. It's nothing he hasn't done before, but he doesn't want to be figuring this out when he could be holding Tim.

Bruce is with him now, and Dick has faith in Bruce in making sure that he won't scare and traumatize an already scared and traumatized little kid, but it doesn't change the fact that Dick still doesn't have the kid in his arms, isn't personally responsible for making sure that he's safe and happy in the moment now.

Not that Tim can be safe and happy now, but Dick wants to hope that he could distract from his problems, could make him feel normal.

It's earth-shattering to realize that Tim had been sexually abused for years, but Dick forces himself to realize that Tim had been Tim even with all this happening in his life, that the incredible young man that had become his brother in everything but blood, which meant jackshit as far as Dick was concerned, had been going through this same pain. As much as Dick was tempted to, he couldn't reduce Tim down to his abuse. It wasn't fair to the amazing man that his brother was.

But Dick sure as hell wasn't going to forget it. He sure as hell wasn't going to let Jack and Janet Drake get away with this.

He was going to ruin them, and then he was going to help Tim discover the purpose he was without the specter of Jack and Janet hanging over the rest of his childhood, or he would die trying.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm salazarastark on tumblr as well, so follow me [here](https://salazarastark.tumblr.com/)! I'm not as active as I'd like to be, but I'm always up for talking about my fics or anything else!


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